Blood Under the Bridge
by DemonWolf37
Summary: Alfred moves to England for work, but falls for a very strange man named Arthur. Matt has always been a good judge of character- and the one who decides who Alfred is allowed to date, but what of Arthur? It's been years since Arthur let someone into his life, let alone his heart, but Alfred may be just the one to help Arthur move on from the past. USXVampireUK Lemon Smut USUK UKUS
1. Chapter 1

**((Okay, so I know the LAST thing I should be working on is a NEW story, but quite frankly I've been so obsessed with this idea for so long that I've lost all motivation for everything else. And with school coming back tomorrow, I know that I need to motivate myself to do something or it might be months before I write anything. On a side note, I hope everyone had a nice Christmas and New Years. Once I figure out how to install Dragon on my crappy computer, I should be able dictate these chapters and get them out more quickly. Anyway, enjoy the sappy vampire story. I might write a prequel to this if it goes over well enough, going over Arthur's past. Specifically a certain thing you'll learn about much, much later. I'll put it in the author's notes once we get there.))**

"Hey, Matt, thanks for coming with me!" Alfred called back to his brother who was tugging both of their suitcases through the crowded London airport, "I would have died if I had to do this alone."

"Are you joking? Mother would have never let you go if I didn't come with. And yes, you would have died. You always sticking your nose were it doesn't belong and always looking for trouble."

"What can I say, I'm a curious person. Anyway, have you called a cab yet?"

"Not yet," Matthew set down one of the suitcases to get out his phone, "Get the rest of our bags from the carousal, we shouldn't have to wait too long."

"Kay!" he shouted as he jogged off towards the baggage claim. It didn't take long for their three bags to come around allowing Alfred to pick them up. All things considered, they had packed pretty lightly. This wasn't some two-week trip across the pond. They were full-on moving to London, and that required a bit more packing than a simple trip.

Alfred jogged back to where Matthew was standing, surprisingly quick despite the three larger bags, each weighing precisely 50 pounds and absolutely no more than, that he was tugging behind him.

"Is the cab coming to pick us up?"

"Yeah, they'll be here in a minute. It's still a forty minute drive though."

"Ugh…"  
>"Oh, that reminds me, did you contact the people you're going to be working for yet?"<p>

"Oh, yeah, they said they can have me start as soon as next week. They have a few jobs lined up and everything!"

"Good," Matthew said as the cab pulled up, "Not much time to settle in first, but we'll need to start making money as soon as possible."

The two loaded their luggage into the trunk of the cab and shoved the bags that didn't fit in next to them. Matthew confirmed their destination with the driver and they were off down the streets of London.

"Did you ever find a place to work, Matt?"

"Not yet, but I'm going to apply as a part-time cashier at the supermarket down the street from our flat."

"Only part-time?"

"I plan on doing some work from home as well. Nothing much, really."

The two kept quiet for the majority of the drive. Alfred still couldn't get over the fact that they were driving on the "wrong" side of the road. The clouds had been growing darker and darker, and soon it started drizzling lightly.

"Welcome to England…" Matthew muttered quietly as they drove on, "The weather will take some getting used to, huh, Alfred?"

But Alfred wasn't paying attention anymore. Or at least, if he were paying attention, he didn't show it as he shouted out,

"Stop the car!"

The car screeched to a rather sudden and ungraceful halt, and Alfred jumped out into the rain.

"What the hell, Alfred?"

"There's a playground!"

"It's nine at night and it's raining!"

"So what? Playground! I'll catch up to you later. I remember the address and everything." Matthew shot him a look. "337 Baker Street. Right down the street from the Sherlock Holmes Museum. Trust me; I'll be able to find it."

"If you get yourself into trouble-"

"Dude, I'll be fine!" And with that, Alfred darted across the street haphazardly and started playing on the playground like a five-year-old. Matthew just sighed and told the cabbie to drive on.

After thoroughly soaking his trousers on the slide a few times, Alfred took to swinging on the swing and jumping off into the mud. Matt would kill him when he got home, but he was having too much fun to worry about that at the moment… or the fact that he wasn't the only one in the park anymore.

After a few more swings, he jumped off again, this time slipping and falling on his bum for maybe the fifth time. He got back up, dusted himself off a bit, and turned around to get back on the swing. But he paused in his actions, as there was a figure watching him from across the park, in the light shadow of a tree.

"Hey!" he shouted as he waved the figure over.

The figure didn't move, and looked slowly to the side to see if there was possibly someone else in the old park. There wasn't.

"Yeah, you. Come over here!"

The figure narrowed its eyes a bit, but nonetheless stepped out of the shadows, revealing himself to be a young man with soaking blond hair, light green eyes, and a pale complexion. He wore a long black coat which seemed rather old, but well taken care of despite its age.

"What are you doing standing out in the rain?" the American called out.

"I could ask the same of you," the blond Brit replied easily.

"Yeah, but I asked first. And besides, it should be pretty obvious what I'm doing," he laughed, gesturing to the swing set.

"Getting terribly filthy so that you'll be scolded thoroughly by your mum when you get home?"

"Nah, my mom didn't even come with us to England. My brother might have a few words with me though," he laughed.

"So… You're just visiting then?"

"Nope, we just moved in today! Well, Matt did anyway. I've been here goofing off and avoiding unpacking."

"Fresh off the plane then…"

"Yep! Got any tips for living here?"

"Hmmm…" the blond Brit seemed to think about it for a while, "Don't stay out too late. The crime may not be nearly as bad as in America, but you never know who's out there. Maybe the next 'Jack the Ripper…' "

"You sound like my brother," Alfred laughed, "And you never answered my question, remember?"

"I do. I'm just out for a walk."

"In the rain?" Alfred laughed.

"When one lives in England, one learns that if you have intentions of going on a walk, it's best to do it when it's only raining _lightly_."

"Ha. I'll try to remember that. M' name's Alfred, by the way. Alfred F. Jones." Alfred stuck out his hand as if the man were close enough to shake it. Instead he just got a look.

"I was serious about not staying out too late, Alfred." The man narrowed his eyes, "You're liable to get yourself into trouble."

And without another word, the man went off to continue his walk in the rain.

* * *

><p>It was another twenty minutes before Alfred to finally leave the park. It was half past ten already, but he figured he couldn't be too far away from the flat at this point. He marched onward through the rain in the direction the cab had gone.<p>

Although, it would seem that Alfred's "friend" from earlier had been right about not staying out after dark, as a small group of three had begun to follow him.

Now, Alfred was a strong enough man. But deliberately picking a fight with three men almost his size was just asking for it. So Alfred kept walking.

One thing that Alfred didn't know about England, and had somehow not noticed while he was being driven through her streets, was that it wasn't laid out like American cities. In big square, easy to navigate blocks in a grid. The streets of London twisted and curved. They were easy enough to navigate if you knew them. But to Alfred, who'd never set foot outside of America until the day he moved, they were a nightmare.

He found himself several times ducking in and out of dead end alleyways, trying to hurry along, but only getting himself more and more lost as the trio grew closer and closer.

He tried another road, finding it, once again, lead in the opposite direction he was headed. But the three were getting a bit too close for Alfred's comfort and he darted down the street anyway.

As soon as the hunt became a chase, the three ran close behind, and easily cornered the little lost American in one of the dead-ends nearby. But they weren't the only things following him…

Alfred might be able to take them… Maybe if he was lucky, they were actually wimps and he'd be on his way in a moment. But one of them pulled out a knife. _Shit… _

"Since you're clearly not from around here, I'll make this simple. Hand over your wallet and we'll let you go."

Alfred didn't move a muscle.

"Just take out your wallet, toss it over here, and we leave. Simple as that. Unless," the man held up the knife and took a step forward, "you _want_ it to get complicated."

"S-stay back! I'm… I'm American!" Alfred shouted at them as if it were a threat.

"Then you should know how this works." The man took another step forward. Alfred checked for an escape route; there wasn't one. The man took more steps, steadily coming at him. Alfred had to be ready for a fight. The others were closing in too. Oh, god, he really was going to die here…

Alfred shakily put up his fists. If he was going to go out, he was going to go out with a fight. The man with the knife was half a metre away. God, the chubby one had a knife too… Alfred's eyes darted to the other one; he was way too distracted to put up a decent fight. They looked like they were going to kill him…

Two hands wrapped around the chubby one's neck and twisted.

Alfred let in a panicked gasp.

There was the sound of a large body hitting the ground, and then it was silent. The first man slashed at Alfred with his knife- seemingly unaware of his companion's attack- easily catching Alfred's arm with the sharp tool.

The other one was all too aware of their companion's attack, as he was next in line… Alfred's "friend" from before was there. He easily ducked a crude punch from the other and instead twisted the man's wrist causing him to scream out loudly.

Finally the knife man turned around, just long enough for Alfred to kick him in the balls. He groaned loudly, but didn't fall over. Instead, he spun back around and captured Alfred in a headlock, knife resting dangerously close to his throat.

"Make a move and I slit his throat!" he shouted.

The blond man held an annoyed (or possibly bored) expression on his face as he considered this. He glanced slowly between the man and Alfred, weighing his options. After a moment, he noticed the body at his feet and kicked it lightly. It didn't move. The blond grunted in frustration.

"Please don't kill me!" Alfred suddenly burst out to the man with the knife, "I kinda like being alive!"

" 'Kinda'? Yes, surely that will keep the depraved maniac from slitting your throat." The blond said, almost amused.

"Watch it, blondie," the 'depraved maniac' said, moving the knife centimetre closer to Alfred's throat.

'Blondie' sighed in defeat and reached into his pocket, pulling out an older looking wallet. He pulled out a single bill.

"Just take it and go."

The man glanced at quickly before shoving Alfred to the side and dashing off, snatching the bill along the way. The blond looked back inside his wallet.

"I just gave him fifty pounds…" he said in disbelief, "Fifty bloody pounds… I meant to give him ten- oof!"

Alfred glomped him, forcing the other to take several large steps back to avoid falling.

"OhMyGoshThatWasSoScaryITotallyThoughtIWasGoingToDieThankYouThankYouThankYou!"

"Yeah, yeah, get off of me already," the blond growled, shoving the other off of him. His green eyes met Alfred's sky blues. For a moment, Alfred thought he saw some sort of emotion on the other's face, but he spun around suddenly.

"Sorry… I just really thought I was gonna die…"

"Why didn't you just give them your bloody wallet?" the blond said after a moment

"I, uh… don't have any money… And I sure as hell wasn't going to give them my passport!"

"Whatever. Just go home and wrap up that cut or something."

"Uh… I'm kinda lost."

"Fine," he sighed after a long moment, "Where do you live?"

"Um, down the street from the Sherlock Holmes Museum."

The other blond started walking off, presumably in the direction of said museum. Alfred followed behind at a reasonable distance, pausing as he passed by the collapsed body on the ground.

"Uh… is he… ya know…?"

"Dead? Yes," the other said without pausing, "probably…"

Alfred gulped as he quickly darted past the body. How could this guy be so nonchalant about killing a guy…? It was kinda creepy…

"Should we call the police or something?"

The other blond didn't say anything.

"Hehe… One thing's for sure, I'm definitely not telling my brother about this…" Alfred said nervously, hoping to change topics, "He probably wouldn't let me out of his sight for the next year."

The other still kept silent. Quite frankly, it was making Alfred nervous.

"Oh… I, uh, never caught your name." Alfred was hoping this time he'd at least get a response. It wasn't proving likely. The other sighed.

"Arthur… Arthur Kirkland."

"It's nice to meet you, Arthur… Properly this time."

Arthur didn't say anything, but let out a sharp sigh. Gee, this guy sure did love to sigh it seemed.

It was a fairly long walk later, but they finally reached the museum. Alfred checked each of the doors for the numbers 337. He let out a sigh of relief when he finally found it. He looked back at Arthur who was still standing in the road, hands in his pockets, a light puff of air escaping his lips every so often. _God, he's beautiful…_ Alfred shook the distracting thought from his head.

"This is it. Do you, uh, wanna come inside?" Alfred asked on impulse, just hoping to keep the beautiful man with him a little while longer. (Although a different meaning of his words did cross Alfred's mind…)

"No, I'd rather get back to… get back to my walk," Arthur replied hastily, "If that's all, I'll be going then." He turned around and went back the way they'd come, gently waving Alfred off as he went.

"Okay… bye…" Alfred turned back to enter the house but instead spun around quickly to call out, "Wait, I never got your number!" But the blond was either too far off to hear or simply didn't pay any heed to Alfred's words. Alfred glumly suspected the latter.

He turned back and went into the flat, disappointed.


	2. Chapter 2

**((Important Author's Note: I forgot to mention in the first author's note, and there wasn't room for it in the description, but in later chapters there will be mentions of rape and slightly more than mentions of rape, so if you're not comfortable with that, then I suggest you stop here before you get too invested in the story. Sorry about that… On a non-important note, sorry about the extremely convenient plot-convenience in this chapter. I'm not writing a novel here. Just some sappy, smutty, usuk/ukus, fanfiction.))**

"Where the _hell_ have you been all this time?!" Matthew shouted as soon as Alfred entered the flat, "I nearly called the cops! And what happened to your arm?!"

"I cut myself on the playground. One of the bolts was sticking out where I fell." Alfred lied quickly. Alfred was used to lying to Matt. Although when it was important, Matthew could usually tell. Luckily, this was not one of those times.

"Here let me look at it."

"Nah, it's cool. It's mostly just torn fabric. I'll stick a Band-Aid on it and it'll be fine."

"Dammit, Alfred, can't you stay out of trouble for one day?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just go eat some pancakes or something, all right. I'm going to bed."

"If you think you're getting out of unpacking, you're sadly mistaken."

"I'll just do it in the morning, Matt," Alfred waved him off, walking into the nearest room, "Is this one mine?"

"That's the bathroom, Alfred."

"Right," Alfred said, going further down the hall to find his own room.

"It's all the way down on the left," Matt shouted, "it's the only one with a window."

"Thanks, Matt, you're the best!"

Getting to sleep for the first time in a new house is never easy, the rain continued on for most of the night, and the sounds of the city were completely foreign to the blond country boy. It also did not help that Alfred had known of his stuff because he had refused to unpack. The white walls of his room were completely barren, lifeless even. And it was frightening.

The one window cast to dim light against the pale walls, creating dark faces with hollowed eyes and grim intentions. There is something frightening about an empty room, there's nowhere to hide in yet, you feel as though you're being watched.

Back in America, Alfred had been known as something of a coward. He was picked on for it, yet everyone knew that if ghosts or zombies or vampires were brought up, Alfred would not be participating in the conversation.

There is just something about creatures that looked human, but _weren't_, that gave him chills. Not that he would've ever guessed that they were real. No, no one ever assumes that they're real. That is, until you see one face-to-face, and there is absolutely no doubt that what you are seeing is the true face of horror.

* * *

><p>In the morning, Alfred had somehow managed to get away from unpacking- yet again- this time by slipping out of the house before Matthew had awoken. Alfred was a morning person. Matthew- while as a child had always been an early riser- had grown accustomed to long nights and late mornings.<p>

Alfred was excited. Not in the "I have exciting plans" way, but more of the "I'm somewhere new, and I'm perfectly content just wandering around aimlessly for a few hours" way.

He didn't really know where he was headed, or which direction he was going, but he got the general feeling that he was headed the way he had come. But then again, knowing Alfred's sense of directions, he could have been halfway to Wales by now…

Finally, when Alfred decided that he was tired enough to rest he decided that he might as well get something to eat. Pulling out his smartphone, he searched for places to eat nearby. There were a few cheap pubs around, but they all had two stars or less. What Alfred _was_ interested in, however, was a little place a few blocks away which had somehow managed to obtain five star reviews.

He walked in the general direction of the place, reading the reviews as he went. It was what Alfred would probably have described as a coffee shop. It served tea, mainly, but also served lunch and bakery goods.

Finally, after several embarrassing wrong turns, Alfred reached the cosy little café. Despite England's peculiar weather, it actually had an outdoor section- albeit with a covering, but still. Alfred checked the sky. Dreary, but not rainy. He'd sit outside.

The waitress giggled at his accent, and recommended some form of pastry when he explained he'd just moved here. She was cute, but not really his type. He sat outside and sipped his tea- complementary of the waitress who'd been very obviously been flirting with him. He wasn't really a tea person, but it wasn't too bad.

The waitress brought out whatever it is Alfred had ended up ordering, and he asked if there was a bathroom somewhere. She politely gestured to the restroom sign back inside. He thanked her and went to do his business.

For some reason _now_ was the time that Alfred's mind wandered back to the previous night, and the mysterious _Arthur Kirkland_ he had met. _That_ was his type. Not that Alfred strictly went for men. All in all, he'd probably actually dated more women than men, but it was really just a guess.

Either way, that blonde was a hottie. Not just because of what he looked like, he just gave off an aura that simply gave Alfred shivers. Of course, so did his last boyfriend, and that didn't lead anywhere in the long run. Nothing ever lead anywhere in the long run for Alfred. Call it bad luck, or call it Alfred having bad taste in men(and women), it's all just a matter of opinion.

Back in the café, Alfred noticed that the small shop had a new patron. Sitting outside two tables away from Alfred's, was none other than Arthur Fucking Kirkland. _'How (plot) convenient…' _Alfred thought as he headed back out the door. This time. This time for sure he'd seduce the blond with the crazy brows.

"Fancy meeting you here," he said. The Brit nearly spat out his tea. "Do you come here often?"

"Oh, it's you…"

"Alfred," he finished for him. Alfred noticed that the Brit looked significantly less pale today. Maybe it had just been the lighting that had made him look so deathly pale before.

"Right, Alfred."

"You didn't answer my question, ya know?"

"Question?" Arthur looked slightly concerned. Alfred put his hand down on the table, ridiculously close to Arthur's face.

" 'Do you come here often?' " Alfred asked again, in his best seduction voice.

"Oh. Actually I do. This is my favourite tea shop."

"Really? So you literally come here often… that almost never works- Uh… I mean… uh… Can I sit with you?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes a bit at the blond.

"As long as you only sit."

"So… can I not talk then?" Alfred asked as he sat down.

"As long as you don't pester me too much, I don't really care what you do."

"Uh… what constitutes 'pestering'?"

"Asking ridiculous questions for one."

"Oops," Alfred laughed, "So how'd you find out about this place? Like did a friend recommend it or something?"

"I've been coming here nearly my whole life. My father showed it to me when I was young and I kept coming back even after he passed," Arthur said with practiced ease.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's hardly something to apologise about."

"Were you… were you close with your father?"

"I suppose you could say that. But his passing doesn't bother me if that's what you're getting at. It is the way of life after all."

Alfred shifted uncomfortably, suddenly remembering Arthur snapping the fat man's neck in the alleyway the night before.

"Uh… can I ask you a question?"

"No," Arthur said so plainly that he had to wonder if he was being sarcastic. He didn't say anything more, so maybe he wasn't…

"But what about yesterday?"

"What about it? I saved your life at the cost of someone else's. Either way, someone was going to die. It was only a matter of who."

"But couldn't you have… like _not_ killed him? Like-"

"No. I couldn't have. Someone was going to die. There was no avoiding that fact, Alfred."

Alfred shuddered at his name. He could have died last night. That fact was very true- and very frightening. But that also didn't change the fact that Arthur had _killed_ someone- to save a complete stranger at that. There was something odd about that to say the least.

"I assume you're wondering why I bothered to save you in the first place?" Arthur asked.

"You…. you can't read minds… right?"

"No."

"Okay… Why did you save me then?"

"Rather a low-life thug than a poor American fresh off the boat."

"Plane."

"Whatever."

"But you can't do that! You're playing god! You can't just chose who lives and dies!"

"Keep your voice down, Alfred. And I already told you, someone was going to die either way. Would you have rather I let them slit your throat and take your precious passport? And then who _knows_ what would have become of your corpse."

"N-no… I wouldn't rather that happened…"

"Then problem solved," Arthur said, continuing to sip his tea.

"But aren't you worried you'll get charged with murder? You could go to jail!"

"I'm not concerned with it. If they call me in, I'll explain what happened and things will sort themselves out. Not that I'm worried that will happen. I've seen these things before: the case will go into a special investigation group, and then it will never get solved. Problem sovled."

"But… your finger prints have got to be all over that guy's neck! It won't take them long to find you!"

"Alfred. I'm. Not. Concerned." He took another sip of his tea. "Things will work out."

"I don't know. Maybe it's just a lifetime of bad luck speaking, but I don't think things like that just work out…"

"Well, you have your luck, and I have mine. If you're concerned that you'll get involved, don't be. Even if they figure out you were there, like I said, it'll go into a special cases division, and never see the light of day again."

"Why do you say that it'll go into a special division?"

"Because I know how law works. There's a special division that handles these cases, and they're incompetent. They hardly ever solve cases."

"What division is this? How the hell does crime even work in England?"

"Probably not too differently from America. People commit crimes. People work to solve crimes. People fail to solve crimes. Murderers walk around freely."

"A-are you…?"

Arthur snorted at the question.

"That's not an answer," Alfred said nervously.

"Would you call the police on me if I said 'yes'?"

"I'm not sure I'd believe you…" Alfred said, shocked.

"Then don't," Arthur said, standing up- having finished his tea. "It's none of your concern if I'm a liar."

"A-and… are you a liar?"

"No," he smirked as he walked back into the café and then back out the door again and headed off.

There were two things that Alfred was certain of. One: he was very, very confused. And two: he'd quite possibly just fallen in love with a murderer.


End file.
